


heaven on one shoulder

by displayheartcode



Category: Supernatural, The Dresden Files - All Media Types
Genre: Crossover, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-17
Updated: 2015-07-17
Packaged: 2018-04-09 17:52:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4358606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/displayheartcode/pseuds/displayheartcode
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You get all the weird types when they're ejected from the Nevernever. </p><p>For Bealta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	heaven on one shoulder

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Bealta](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Bealta).



> I'm on a writing roll!

The kid had the unfair jawline that could make teenagers swoon.

Seriously, Thomas was going to have some major competition in the bone structure department.

He was human enough, I roughly knew that already. After bagging his bewildered ass near the fine Chicago Field Museum, I had done the preliminaries with a quick blood test and some more handy spells.

I said roughly because it wasn't normal for humans to get randomly ejected from the Nevernever. The universe had enough rules about the weirdness around here, and kids wearing plaid with a weird tattoo bend those rules just a bit.

Plus, he kept muttering weird things under his breath about needing someone with a feathery ass.

Murphy gave a slight nod of the head, a signal for me to clear the electronics in the room. Rawlins wasn't in today (something about a kid's birthday), and we were on our own with our improv of the _X-Files._

I nodded and tapped my fingers under the table. There was the faint charge in the air of my magic being released, and in another second we were ready to go.

Murphy carefully hid her smile. She resumed her game face, all hard edges and complete lack of her sly grin. She glared holes into the kid's head, causing him to retreat into his jacket like a turtle, all of his easy-going confidence quickly fading.

"Dean Winchester," she started. She put his bagged wallet on the table that was stuffed with plastic cards. "Or at least one of the many aliases that you appear to be under."

He stared at the bag, his lips thinning considerably.

"Listen," he said with a rough voice. "I have no clue what the friggin' hell is going on here. I was just doin' my thing and the mirror—" His head swerved sharply to me. "You have to believe me, man."

Well, at least he had enough brain-space to know that appealing to Murphy was a lost cause. He was learning.

"You were vomited by a weird vortex of light," I said. I leaned forward and steepled my fingers under my chin. "We've seen weirder, but we just want to make sure that you're not going harm anyone here." I let some more magic loose to show that I meant business.

The lone lamp above flickered, and the kid flinched away at feeling my immense power, jerking as his shackled hands kept him put.

"This is also a reason why we want to be sure." And Murphy then pulled out the next piece of evidence.

It was a beauty of a thing. An old Colt with elegant engravings and a pentagram on the handle, the words _non timbo malo_ etched into the metal. It also radiated a hell of a lot of power. The hairs on the back of my neck immediately rose as my hand got near it. I'm sure that the consequences of looking at it with my Sight would be unbelievable.

"Shiny," I said.

"Ah, shit," the kid went.

Murphy tugged the gun closer to her—leverage could be ever-so-useful. "Start talking."


End file.
